


Beneath the Surface

by nagi_schwarz



Series: Comment Fic 2016 [117]
Category: Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-24
Updated: 2016-11-24
Packaged: 2018-09-01 21:34:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8638885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/nagi_schwarz
Summary: Written for the comment_fic prompt: "Stargate Multiverse, any, a life in flashbacks."Evan Lorne and Atlantis.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aivix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aivix/gifts).



Atlantis is panicking. The city is sinking. Evan doesn’t know what to do. Chaos has exploded all around him. McKay and the other scientists are panicking, lighting up consoles left and right, but that just drains the ZPM faster. Sumner and the rest of his Marines are trying to maintain some semblance of control over the scientists who cannot contribute to the situation at hand, but there is nothing for them to fight against. This is a battle that cannot be won.

 _Evanesco,_ Atlantis whispers. _Let me go._

Evan does.

*

Evan was the only kid on the commune who didn’t grow his hair long, who didn’t choose something flowery or otherwise nature-y for his soul name. (He picked Alexander, which was his father’s name, but he wasn’t supposed to know that. His father had been a soldier in Vietnam. His father had killed himself over the nightmares he carried home.)

Evan didn’t want to be an artist or an activist or a baker or an organic farmer. He wanted to be a soldier. Not so he could hurt or kill, but so he could fly. Fly fast and high and free.

The best and fastest pilots belonged to the Air Force, and that was were Evan was going to go.

Because she was calling him. The City. And to get to her, he had to fly.

The other kids didn’t understand it, mistrusted him without being able to explain why.

It was because they couldn’t hear what Evan could hear.

She sang to him from the waves, from the skies, from the stars, and he whispered back to her, _I’m coming home._

*

“What the hell?” McKay demands.

Zelenka is swearing in a flurry of Czech, and despite the panic Weir looks appalled.

“We’re sinking,” Evan says.

“Obviously,” McKay snaps, and then he squints at Evan. “How do you even know that?”

Where McKay and Zelenka and Grodin are attacking the consoles with flying hands, the other scientists are huddled in a frightened mass, surrounded by Marines whose guns are poised for nothingness, and Evan is standing at the silent, lifeless gate, head tipped back, listening. He closes his eyes.

“She’s talking to me,” Evan says. Usually he avoids mentioning how Ancient tech whispers in his head, how the more complex pieces speak to him, but there is no point in hiding it now. He turns and looks at McKay. “You should go. Take the gate ships and leave the city.”

“Gate ships?” McKay echoes.

Evan closes his eyes. “Located there.”

Evan opens his eyes and sees McKay staring at the holographic display illuminated above the console he’s using.

Sumner ascends the stairs toward the console. “How do we get there?”

Evan tells him. He thinks he would not know this ordinarily, how to navigate the city, how to use the transporters, any of it, but Atlantis is gentle with him, helping any way she can.

“Major,” Sumner says, once his Marines have herded the scientists into place. “Fall in.”

“With all due respect, sir,” Evan says. He’s taken McKay’s place at the console. “Someone needs to keep this place afloat long enough for you to escape.”

“Son -”

“Goodbye, sir.”

“It was an honor, Major.”

“Thank you, sir.”

*

Evan stood in front of the recruiter desk in the quad, books clutched closely to his side, grip white-knuckled. Whatever his dreams and ambitions were, he’d been raised how he’d been raised, and being this close to a soldier was a little daunting. However much Evan had grown up wanting to be a pilot, he’d also grown up dodging police officers and pretty much every authority figure ever.

“What can I do for you, son?” The recruiter was a tall man, broad-shouldered, with a weathered face and a perfectly pressed uniform.

Evan looked into his eyes and was pretty sure the man would kill him as soon as blink. But Evan squared his shoulders and lifted his chin and pasted on his brightest smile and said, “I’d like to join up.”

“You mean enlist, or -?”

“I want to be a pilot.”

The recruiter eyed Evan warily. “Then you’ll need to be an officer.”

“All right. What do I need to do to be an officer?”

There was some shuffling, some paperwork, a phone call about test scores from the ASVAB (which Evan had taken in high school despite all his soul-siblings’ refusal to do so and campus protest against).

Evan filled out his paperwork while the recruiter made the phone call, and when he was done, he pushed the paperwork back across the table. The recruiter hung up the phone, looked Evan up and down, and, for the first time, smiled.

“Welcome to the United States Air Force, Cadet Lorne.”

“I look forward to serving, sir.”

“I’m sure it’ll be an honor.”

“Thank you, sir.”

*

Evan watches on the HUD as, one by one, the gate ships fill with people and, one by one, they lift off. He knows Kusanagi, Miller, Edison, Beckett, Griffin, Levine, Markham, Abrams and Bolton have the gene, but Kusanagi, Abrams, and Beckett are not soldiers, and not even all the soldiers are pilots, and Evan begs Atlantis to help them, show them how to fly, how to find safety.

 _Lorne._ It is McKay whose voice crackles over the subspace communicator installed in every gate ship. _Come with us. There’s still time._

Evan lifts his hands away from the console and flinches when Atlantis heaves. _No,_ he says. _I have to stay._

He’s not one of them, not anymore. And maybe he never was, because as soon as he stepped foot on Atlantis, he knew her, and she knew him, and it was like coming home.

 _Lorne,_ Weir says.

_Atlantis will show you where to go._

_How?_ McKay is incredulous.

_With her dying breath._

*

“You have an open mind, son.”

Evan resisted the urge to fidget. Even though he was a full-fledged second lieutenant with the silver bars to prove it, he was pretty sure General Hammond could see into his soul, and it was discomfiting.

“Your commanding officers all have good things to say about you. You’re respectful, efficient, and by all accounts a skilled surveyor.”

“Thank you, sir,” Evan said cautiously.

“You were raised on an art commune outside of San Francisco.” It was a statement, not a question; Hammond had Evan’s file in front of him, was flipping through it.

“You believe in aliens, son?”

Evan blinked. Was this a test? Was there a right or a wrong answer? “One cannot prove a negative, so I cannot say they do not exist, but I have not been presented with specific evidence they do exist, so at this point their existence is - unlikely, but not impossible.”

Hammond huffed, amused. “Very diplomatic, son. And what would you do if you were presented with evidence that aliens existed?”

“Assuming the evidence were credible, I suppose I would keep living my life unless the aliens interacted with me specifically. Live and let live, sir. As a general rule. Unless they’re hostile to America.”

“That sounds very rational, Lieutenant.” Hammond closed Evan’s file and clasped his hands on the table-top, looked Evan in the eye. “I know you’re also a talented pilot, that you’re cleared to fly C-130’s and F-16’s. I have an offer for you, if you’re interested. Highly-classified, top-secret. I think you’d be a perfect fit.”

“Does it involve aliens?” Evan asked dubiously, unable to disguise his tone.

And Hammond laughed. “Sign the NDA and find out, son. Captain Davis! Come on in.”

Hammond stepped out of the interview room, Captain Davis stepped in, and Evan practically signed away his immortal soul.

And then they showed him the Stargate.

When the wormhole engaged, with a rush of not-quite-water and light and energy, Evan heard it.

Her voice.

Atlantis.

_Come to me._

And when Evan finally caught his breath, he said, _Yes._

*

Evan knows he was supposed to come to Atlantis, that he was always meant to be here. He didn’t know that his trip through the Stargate to her warm embrace would be his last. They have fit as many people as they can in the jumpers. Not everyone will fit. Not everyone will survive. There are more jumpers than pilots. But there is gear left.

It is Aiden Ford who returns, leading a ragtag gaggle of scientists who are hauling everything they can.

“Where do we go?” he asks.

Evan asks Atlantis. He gives Ford the gate address to a planet Atlantis says is safe, he gives Ford a portable subspace communicator, and he dials the gate.

Ford sends the scientists through first. Evan gazes at the shimmering event horizon and longs to step through, but Atlantis wraps around him, holds him fast, and he sinks into her embrace.

Ford goes last, because he is a good soldier. He does not look back.

The wormhole closes. The drain on the ZPM was necessary but dangerous.

Atlantis begins to shake apart.

*

“It’s pretty standard,” Sergeant Milton said. She was tiny but a Marine and was the quartermaster on base. Nothing moved without her knowing about it. Evan talked to her a lot, because there was talk about him being stationed on a team off-world long-term, and someone would be needing to run the supply lines, and that someone was probably going to be him. “Everyone tags along on a gate mission with one of the more experienced teams before they go to their own team. Just to break you in.”

“I’d rather not be broken, thanks.” Evan felt like a little kid, standing there while Milton buckled a tac vest on him, walked him through what was in the pockets - not the same as he’d worn in A-stan or Korea or any of his prior postings.

Milton smiled, patted him on the shoulder. “You’re going out with SG-1. It’s a huge honor. It’ll be a great chance to see how the best gate teams work. Working with scientists can be rough. Scientist-soldiers are the best combo, like Captain Carter. Are you a scientist, too?”

“I’m a surveyor,” Evan offered.

“There.” Milton stood back and looked him over, pleased, and Evan had the strangest notion that she was going to pinch him on the cheek. “All right. Off you go!”

And Evan headed for the gate room.

He’d heard all about SG-1, read as many of their AAR’s he could get their hands on. And he was nervous.

This was his very first trip through the gate, and he was going with SG-1, who were the flagship team, who were the best and the brightest and the bravest, and who also seemed to get into the most peril.

They came ambling into the gate room one by one, with little semblance of order.

“Don’t bait him, sir,” Carter was saying. “He hasn’t had enough caffeine, and we’re all going to pay for it.”

Jackson wore a mulish expression and was clutching a foam cup of coffee, slurping from it.

“I wasn’t baiting him,” O’Neill said reasonably, resting his hand on the butt of his P-90. “I was just pointing out that the SGC’s coffee budget skyrocketed the first time he showed up here, along with the budget for tissue boxes, and if he’s going to be an added cost, he should pull his weight by teaching some ESL classes on the side.”

“Teal’c,” Jackson said, and while Evan wasn’t tall for a caucasian man, he’d never really felt small before.

“Yes, Daniel Jackson.” Teal’c’s voice was deep and booming.

“Tell Jack that my being cranky is unrelated to my coffee intake and more related to him handing out my phone number as a free translation service so people call me in the middle of the night.”

“I can hear you,” O’Neill said.

“Indeed,” Teal’c rumbled.

And then Carter noticed Evan. “Hey, Lieutenant. You ready for your first trip through the gate?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

O’Neill turned around, surprised. “Oh, Lieutenant Lorne. So nice to have you tagging along. Daniel, I offer you a meat shield.”

Evan was pretty sure he maintained a blank expression, but Jackson said, “Ignore him, Lieutenant. Just stay behind Teal’c and everything will be fine.”

Evan’s first trip through the Stargate was not fine. It started off fine. He stepped through the gate, and the sensation was - indescribable. And then they were on a seemingly routine mission, poking around a deserted alien base.

And then the alien device appeared, and it didn’t react to Teal’c, and then it tried to grab O’Neill, and Evan’s reaction was instinctive. Protect your CO. So he dove in, got his hands on the machine, and managed to peel it off of O’Neill’s skull and push him aside.

And then the device sucked him in, and his world began to shake apart.

*

Atlantis is sinking. Her shields are failing but she is too weak, too damaged, and the city is falling, slipping, sliding beneath the waves. Evan can feel the pressure mount, water on all sides, desperate to get in, get in, _get in_.

He leaves the control room, because he does not need to stand at the control panel anymore. Atlantis will stay with him wherever he goes.

He walks to the nearest balcony and gazes out one of the ceiling-high windows at the shield and the water beyond the shield. The shield shimmers, orange energy against the deep, sweeping blue. He can see ocean megafauna drifting and swaying, glimpses flippers and fins and tails and even some scales. Evan knows he is the first human to see them in a long, long time. And he smiles.

*

Evan wasn't alone. She was whispering in the back of his mind, telling him, guiding him, louder and clearer than ever. He knew the rest of the SGC thought he was insane, because she was bleeding through every pore - his words (not always English), his actions.

His mind.

He was buzzing with anticipation, excitement. Carter and Lee and the rest got out of the way when he waded into the lab and started building. It made perfect sense to him, a generator that would allow the stargate to dial another galaxy. Because what waited for him on the other side was -

The Asgard.

The further Evan drifted from Earth, the closer he drifted to Atlantis, in thought and word and deed, and when he fired up the stargate, dialed eight chevrons, they thought he was running away. He was journeying forward.

He was the first human to see the Asgard for who and what they were.

And he couldn't help but smile.

*

The shields are falling. Evan watches the shimmer and spark, the slow, gentle failure, as the energy barrier splits and peels back and shatters in some spots, and the water rushes in.

 _Step back,_ Atlantis whispers, and Evan does, steps back back back, moving higher and higher, up the steps.

Evan watches as Atlantis sinks and the water in the city rises.

He is at the top of the tallest tower, and there is nowhere for him to go.

So he sits, and he watches, and he waits. Feels the icy wetness lap at his ankles.

And he whispers, _I love you._

And she whispers, _Goodbye._

*

Dr. McKay looked at Evan with a mixture of disdain and jealousy. He gestured to the throne-looking device on the raised platform.

“Sit down, Major.”

Evan climbed up onto the platform and circled the throne, studying the silvery patterns and the panels for lights. He could feel a buzzing in the back of his mind that reminded him of Atlantis, only - smaller. Like an electronic simulation of a voice, where Atlantis sounded like an actual person.

“Before I'm old,” McKay said.

Evan raised his eyebrows, expression innocent. “You mean you're not old?”

McKay rolled his eyes. “Oh, ha ha. Sit, Major.”

“I'm not a dog, Doc.” But he perched cautiously on the edge of the seat, and the throne came to life, lit up, sank back and took him with it, cradling him.

 _Hello,_ the outpost said.

McKay said, “Think about where we are in the universe.”

But Evan wasn't listening. He was looking for Atlantis.

A hologram appeared in the air above him.

“Damn you and your special gene,” McKay muttered. “It's wasted on a soldier like you.”

Evan chuckled. “I appreciate you too.”

“That's not where we are in the universe.”

“No, but it's where we’re going.”

*

Evan is drowning. The water has risen slowly and surely. Now it slides up his chest, up his neck, along his jaw, down his throat. Stroking. Caressing. A deadly lover.

He asks Atlantis for one last favor before he loses consciousness in the cold.

He asks her to tell him if the others are all right.

She is losing power. She is breaking down. Her response is too much data, not enough communication, but he thinks they made it.

He hopes.

The last thing he understands from her is,  _I love you too._

He prays she isn't lying to him.

And he fades.

*

Janus stared at the simulation, at the boy’s face, at his beatific expression as his eyes slid closed and he surrendered to the oceans of Lantea.

Footsteps startled him, and with a thought he dismissed the simulation, buried it where no one could ever find it.

In the doorway, Evanesca was beautiful, her smile serene, her gaze welcoming. Janus stepped into her arms and kissed her. Closed his eyes. Committed her soft, dark hair and bright blue eyes and dimples to memory.

“I love you,” he whispered, and he drew her down onto his bed.

“I love you,” she whispered back, in the darkness after their lovemaking.

He waited until she was asleep and then, heart breaking, he left her.

The next night, he bedded the beautiful Pastora, who was renowned across many planets for her bright, multicolored eyes and her uniquely pointed ears, her soft pink mouth and her slender figure and her skill with numbers.

He didn't tell her he loved her.

But when he ran the simulation again, nine months later, he saw the Atlantis of the future alive and thriving, and that was enough.


End file.
